To Meet Again
by Akedhi
Summary: A romance between Beleg and an unnamed elven lady that takes place while he is going after Turin the second time.
1. A Last Farewell

[Disclaimer: The narrator is mine, all else belongs to Tolkien.]  
  
"Must you leave, beloved?" I ask, though I know his answer already.  
  
This sort of exchange has become our own sort of ritual; I ask him to stay, whether it be from battle or a hunt for some deadly creature (I was so afraid for him when he joined the hunt for the wolf.) and he explains, once again, why he must go. He once laughed that I do enough worrying for the both of us.  
  
"Yes, melanna, I must. Even were this someone else, the king would need my skills. But it is not someone else. He is my dearest friend. How can I let him face the orkish hoards alone?"  
  
"What about Saeros?" I say, even though I know the king forgave the boy for that. My love springs to the defense of his friend, of course. Which is why the king forgave the man in the first place; he could hardly ignore the words of one of his most trusted captains. He must be softening since his daughter left.  
  
"Saeros was a damn fool, and he deserved it. You know that, beloved."  
  
"Yes, I know." He smiles and I am reminded why I love him so. But so much more than his wonderful eyes and his gentle smile, I love his honor and his care for everything in his life.  
  
I look at him, into his wise grey eyes. "Come back to me, beloved. When you have found him, come back to me. Promise me this."  
  
He takes my face in his big hands. "This is more than your usual worry, melanna. What frightens you so?" His voice is concerned and gentle.  
  
"I cannot say," I confess. "I keep seeing your face in my mind, dead and grey. And you're going so far away from the protection of the queen. I fear to lose you."  
  
He pulls me close, pressing my head against his chest. I can hear his heartbeat, strong and steady. Like him. "I swear to you," he whispers into my hair. "I will return. When I have found the man I seek, I will return to you by whatever means necessary. I swear this by Manwë and Elbereth. You will not lose me." A smile creeps into his voice. "Feel better?"  
  
No. "Yes. I suppose so."  
  
"Good. Help me pack?"  
  
"Of course. It has to be done right, no?"  
  
He laughs and kisses me on the cheek. I kiss him back and we get to work, packing with one hand each. The others are folded around each other's.  
  
****  
  
He leaves at dawn the next morning.  
  
I stand watching his tall figure fade into the distance, remembering his parting words.  
  
"Wait for me, melanna. I will return before the year is old. I love you, my gift of love."  
  
I whisper to his back, "I will wait for you forever, Beleg Cuthalion."  
  
[A/N: And we all know what happens to his promise, don't we.  
  
I hope this has no Mary-Sue-ish tendencies. I don't think it does, but as I'm the author I'm rather biased. Please review and if it in any way looks like an MS, please do let me know so I can delete it.  
  
Also, if anyone can help me with italics and bold, that would be greatly appreciated.] 


	2. Waiting

[Disclaimer: "Melanna" is mine. Doriath and all the named inhabitants belong solely to Tolkien.]

A/N: I admit it, this is a fantasy of mine. A romance with Beleg, I mean. Not the aftermath of the oh-so-kind Turin.

I wasn't going to continue this, for fear that it would devolve into a Mary-Sue, but "melanna" wouldn't leave me alone. So, here's chapter two, and if at any time I descend into Sueness, shoot me. Or flame me, or whatever. (And if I do fall, I welcome the PPC and ask them to put me out of your misery.)

And now, to Doriath!]

It has only been three weeks since the departure of Beleg and already I watch for his return. I know, I know, he may not have even found Turin yet. It took him an entire year before he came back last time, but I miss him so. I miss teasing him, holding him . . . I just miss _him._

Our room seems very big and empty without him in it. His touch, in the weapons rack beside my tapestry frame, in the simplicity of the ornamentation, is everywhere. I have taken to resting elsewhere after that first night, because the bed feels cold and vast without his arms around me.

I shake myself out of my gloomy thoughts and decide to take a long walk under the stars. I will imagine that he is there beside me and perhaps, somehow, he will know that I am thinking of him.

****

I wonder where Beleg is this night. Has he found Turin yet? Perhaps he is on his way home now. It has been almost two months, after all.

I can picture them so easily, Beleg's tall figure beside Turin's slightly shorter one, both dark-haired heads close together in conversation. Turin's sword would swing in time with his stride, while Anglachel's silver-twined hilt would protrude past Beleg's left shoulder as it has since he chose it. 

That sword makes me nervous. I cannot forget what Melian told Beleg when he chose it.

_"There is malice in this sword. The dark heart of the smith still dwells in it. It will not love the hand it serves; neither will it abide with you long."_

I saw Eöl once. Before he vanished into the homeland of his Noldorin wife. He used to bring tribute here every few years, I think because he didn't want the king to see the things he had at home. He frightened me, so dark and intense. I still have yet to see anyone so sinister and . . . wrong as Eöl, the smith of Nan Elmoth. 

They say that he lost his mind over his wife and son leaving and murdered Aredhel in Gondolin. They tell of his curse on his son, just before they cast him off the highest cliff. I am afraid that he cursed that sword as well. I wish Beleg would choose some other sword.

****

Surely they are on their way back here now. Four months is too long for so simple a task. Is it not? Surely Turin cannot have gone so far that Beleg cannot find him.

I am pacing, something I find myself doing more and more often of late. I am so afraid for him. It seems different now than any time before, when he has had others surrounding him, giving him comfort and protection. But now . . . he is alone, unless he has found Turin.

My steps carry me to the arched window, where I stop and look out at the lush greenery of Thingol's forest realm. If I strain, I can just make out the shimmer that marks the boundary. Melian's Girdle. And somewhere in the wildlands beyond that curtain, Beleg is walking tirelessly.

Perhaps he is thinking of me.

****

I dream.

~+~+~+~

 _I am floating over a battlefield. Human men lie scattered around in unnatural positions, dead and dying. I feel ill. All these lives, wasted. I send a quick prayer to the Valar, entreating that the souls of these men be cared for. _

_Then I see a too-familiar figure._

_It cannot be him. He cannot be lying there. He is a captain in Doriath, not one of these human rabble. I will not accept this. I refuse to believe that he is lying dead on a battlefield. He promised to come back to me, and Beleg Cuthalion never breaks a promise._

_A little figure scuttles around the field while I stare paralyzed at my beloved. I suddenly realize who the creature is and what the dwarf is doing. Have the Naugrim no honor? He is robbing the dead and speeding the passing of the few that are only wounded. The hatred in the way he murders the men frightens me. _

_He approaches Beleg. I can almost see the black cloud of his bitterness toward my husband. I am afraid of what he might do to my beloved, dead or no._

_I start forward, but something is pulling me away. I cry out, but the battlefield fades from my sight_. 

~+~+~+~

_It is raining. Two figures, one tall and strong, one bent and weary, follow a fading trail in the mud. The smaller one slips in the muck and the taller one helps him to rise._

_Beleg! He is alive. Oh, Valar be praised. I am giddy in my relief._

_Then I remember that this is a dream, and my elation dies. There is no way of knowing if what I see here is the truth._

_Once again I am pulled away._

~+~+~+~

_Yrch__! They are everywhere, sleeping piled on top of one another like so many clods of dirt. A figure that is slightly familiar to me lies bound in the middle of them. _Turin___, that__ is __Turin__! O Lady, he is so much worn, so different from when he dwelt with us in Doriath._

_A shadow slips through the orcs and bends over __Turin__. It must be Beleg; who else would risk all for the son of Morwen, elven-fair though she was? My Beleg._

_In the dream, I follow Beleg as he carries __Turin__ away from the orcs. The bent figure I remember from before is waiting for them at the top of a hill. The rain pours down on this most unlikely trio as Beleg cuts _Turin___'s bonds. Suddenly, Anglachel is not in Beleg's hand anymore, but in __Turin__'s._

_The vision fades before I can see anything more._

~+~+~+~

I wake, breathing hard. Tears stream down my face as I weep for my dream and what it could mean.

I tell myself that it was only a dream. Only a dream, but so real. Lady Elbereth, Lord Manwë, please, watch over my Beleg. Keep him safe. Bring him back to me.

A knock at my door startles me.

"Come in."

"The queen wishes to see you, my lady."

[A/N: And cue suspenseful music! Three guesses to what Melian wants to see her about, and the first two don't count.]


	3. Letters and Windows

[Disclaimer: Beleg is not mine, sadly. Neither are Melian and Thingol.

A/N: The letter from Turin is _entirely_ my own invention. See, I have this idea that Melian confined herself and her knowledge to the lands under the protection of her Girdle, and thus I had to come up with some way for the news of Beleg's death to reach Doriath. Thus the letter and the messenger. I'm not sure if they would actually let someone from Nargothrond into Doriath, so forgive me if you don't think that likely (they _were_ Noldor, yes?). If I have unforgivably trespassed here, I am truly sorry.

Anyway, just a bit of a warning there. I've tried to keep within the bounds of canon, but I have only the Silm and my overactive imagination to go by (no HoME *sad puppy eyes*)]

As I pass through the grand halls of Menegroth, I hear the whispers. 

"Does she know yet?"

"I do not believe so."

"Poor dear."

"So horrible, the way it happened."

"Just imagine . . ."

Their voices fade into my growing fear. My dream . . . No! Nothing has happened to Beleg. He will come back to me and he will bring Turin home and we will all be happy again. Even Turin. Beleg _promised._

So I try to convince myself, but in my heart, I know that our tale will not have a happy ending. I know that that of which they whisper is what I most fear, that which I dreamt. Beleg shall not return to me. He will never return to anyone again.

If he had stayed with me . . .

I have reached the door of the Queen's chambers. I pause on the threshold. I can still turn back to my lonely rooms, clinging to my illusions, telling myself that Beleg will come back. Or I can answer Melian's summons, and learn the fate of my beloved. I breathe deeply and push the open the door.

"Welcome, child." The Queen's voice is gentle as she gestures for me to seat myself. I smile shyly, wondering if I am merely overreacting to the dream and the whispers in the halls.

"A messenger from Orodreth of Nargothrond arrived in at the borders of Doriath yesterday afternoon. He bore tidings for my lord and for me, and also a letter for you."

"I do not understand, my lady."

She hands me a folded piece of parchment with my name inscribed upon it in a firm clear hand that I almost recognize. I open it, and begin to read.

****

_My lady,_

_This is very difficult for me to write, though it must be more difficult for you to read. King Orodreth said he was sending a messenger with my tidings to Elu Thingol, and Gwindor suggested that I write to _you_ myself. I did not want this 'honor', but honor demands it of me. I suppose I should begin at the beginning, when I left Doriath._

_I was angry then, so angry, with myself and with Saeros as well. Mablung urged me to return and stand before Thingol for his judgement, but I ran away instead. I joined a band of outlaws, and eventually became their chief. Then Beleg arrived for the first time, and he bade me return, saying that all was forgiven. He abode with us for a little time, then he returned to you._

_After he left, I made an enemy of a dwarf, Mîm by name, by killing his son and taking his house for my own. Beleg eventually found me in Bar-en-Danwedh and he dwelt with me and my men for a time, hunting orcs and other servants of Angband. Mîm was displeased with the addition of an Elf to our company, and betrayed us._

_The orcs en, wounded Beleg, leaving him for dead, and captured me. I was bound with both ropes and iron; they were taking all precautions, lest I escape and their miserable lives be forfeit_

_I will not tax you with tales of what they did to me. It is enough to say that I was . . . not myself._

_I was asleep, or unconscious. I cannot with truth say which. I remember a vague sensation of movement, but thought it no more than a dream, for the orcs were never so gentle. I woke at a sharp pain in my foot._

_It was raining, and all I saw was a shadowy figure standing over me with bared blade. My reaction was understandable, but unforgivable. I tore the blade from my 'attacker's' hand and thrust it through his heart. Then the lightning flashed, and I saw that it was your husband._

_Gwindor tells me that I gave a cry not unlike an animal. I believe, at that moment and from thence until I awoke by the waters of Eithel Ivrin, I was an animal, mad with grief and self-loathing._

_I would like to tell you that with Beleg's dying breath, he asked me to tell you that he loved you. In truth, I do not know if he did or not. I do not remember anything after realizing that I had thrust a sword through his heart._

_I do not ask you to forgive me, for I fear that it is impossible. How can I ask you to when I cannot even forgive myself. There are only these few words that I can say, and I know that they can never be enough._

_I am sorry._

_Turin Turambar, now called Agarwaen, son of Umarth_

_****_

The page in front of me blurs. A cool hand is laid upon my shoulder, and I lean into the Queen, weeping.

"Hush, child," whispers the wise voice of Melian. "Hush now."

Time passes, I do not know how much, and I come to the end of my tears. I rise with as much dignity as I can muster, and say, "Thank you, my lady. I must go now."

"And will you return?"

"I fear not, my queen."

"Then farewell, my child."

"Farewell."

****

In my chamber, I stare at the empty weapons rack where Beleg used to hang Belthronding. All that is left of him in this room are the soulless things, the things that were only for use, not for ornament or for sentimental value. All I have of him are my memories, and those are fast fading.

My gaze travels the room and stops on the window. It looks very inviting, now. It would be so easy, to simply drop out of existences . . . 

**End**


End file.
